


Untitled

by mourninghope (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Talk of Dementia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mourninghope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles travel to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to visit Stiles' grandparents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes authors put too much of themselves into a fic. This is one such instance. A lot of what happens in this fic is true to life. There is no character death but there is talk of death. There is talk of dementia. 
> 
> There are also two young men figuring out how to move forward.
> 
> I welcome and appreciate positive feedback and questions. 
> 
> I love you guys and am so grateful to everyone who continues to read my work even when I disappear for way too long.

I.

Scott curled his fingers over Stiles’ knee and squeezed gently. “Nervous?”

“I hate flying.” Stiles pursed his lips and exhaled sharply as the plane banked. His honeyed eyes widened at the sight of the snow covered peaks visible beyond the wing of the plane. “But that… That almost makes it worth it.” 

Grinning, Scott lifted his arm and wrapped it around Stiles’ shoulders as the teen leaned into his side. “It’s beautiful. Why did your mom ever leave?” 

“For my dad. He couldn’t find work here when the base closed. His family begged him to come home.” Snuggling into Scott’s side, Stiles pressed his fingers against the cold glass. “My grandparents were heartbroken but they understood.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“At Mom’s funeral. They don’t travel. Like ever.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully, arm tightening over Stiles’ shoulders as the landing gear dropped from the belly of the plane. “It’s not the flight that has you so nervous, Stiles.” 

Stiles sighed. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Mimi didn’t seem quite right when I called. Grandpa Red said that everything was fine but I just don’t know.”

“So, the airport is on what used to be the base, right?”

“Yeah. We can drive through before we head into town.”

“We can drive through before we leave. I’m not letting you put this off. Besides,” Scott murmured, bumping his nose against Stiles’ temple, “it’s a forty minute drive into Marquette and it’s snowing.” 

“Thanks Scottie. Don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t agreed to come.”

“I do. You’d have thrown a tantrum and moped around your room. Lucky for you, your dad trusts me to keep you safe.”

“Yeah but now you’re missing Christmas with your mom.” Stiles tightened his fingers over the arm rests as the plane touched down, bouncing lightly on the tarmac. 

“I have a feeling our folks will keep each other company.” Scott shrugged and released Stiles, stretching hard. “Besides… You needed me and we made a promise, way back when, that we would always have each other’s backs. Where else would I be?”

Stiles flushed and ducked his chin as he fumbled with the buckle on his seatbelt. “Point.”

“Exactly.” Grinning, Scott swatted the omega’s hands and quickly opened Stiles’ buckle, then set to work on his own. “Oh. By the way. I’m driving.” 

“What? Dude! No.” Stiles stood and twisted, popping his back. “You don’t know where we’re going.” 

“Dude. Neither do you. That’s what GPS is for. Besides, you let me pick out the rental.”

“Only fair since you’re paying for it,” Stiles grumped. 

“Right. Because you bought the plane tickets.” Scott propelled Stiles into the isle and fell in behind the omega. He grabbed their backpacks then helped Stiles into his. “I’m driving. Suck it up, buttercup. I got us the biggest, most badass Chevy pickup they had.” 

“Fine,” Stiles muttered, shuffling forward, Scott a line of heat at his back, the alpha’s broad palm heavy on his hip. 

“I really expected more people,” Scott mused as they made their way through the terminal to the rental counter.

“We’re in the upper peninsula of Michigan, Scottie. It might be the largest city up here but it’s only about the size of Beacon Hills.”

“Huh. Wait. How do you even know that,” Scott asked, leaning against the counter while they waited for one of the two agents to be available.

“I googled it.” Stiles shrugged and shoved his hands into the kangaroo pocket on his hoody. “I mean, this is where my folks are from, y’know? Where most of my family lives. I was curious and really just wanted to figure out if it was even worth asking Dad about visiting.”

Scott grunted and shuffled up to the now free agent. After signing on the dotted line and pocketing the keys for the pickup, he turned to find Stiles staring up at one of the big screen televisions mounted throughout the terminal. “What’s up?”

“It’s like, twenty-seven degrees outside and the snow is… What the fuck does lake effect mean,” Stiles asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Scott shrugged, squinting at the screen. “According to the scroll bar at the bottom of the screen it is ‘wet heavy snow, falling at roughly three to four inches an hour’. Sounds fun. C’mon, as small as this place is there has to be a store of some sort where we can grab coats or something.” The alpha wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and pulled him close, guiding him away from the television. He kept him close as they slipped into the flow of pre-Christmas travelers. 

“We should have checked the weather before we came.” Stiles huffed and hooked his thumb into one of Scott’s belt loops. 

“We did. Remember? There was no mention of snow before Christmas. Plus, we agreed that if we packed for the possibilities we would have had to bring a suitcase which would have meant that we’d have had to pay to check our luggage since the only suitcase either one of us had was too big for the overhead compartment.” 

“Right. Oh! Hey, that looks promising.” Stiles jerked his chin toward a shop window blanketed in white Christmas lights. “I think I can see coats! Maybe.”

“I wonder how many people forget or just don’t bring winter gear when they come here,” Scott mused as he let Stiles tug them across the flow of pedestrian traffic. He ducked beneath a sagging evergreen bough, his chin brushing the top of Stiles’ head as they stepped into the shop. 

“More than you think! Hi! Welcome to da U.P., eh” chimed a plump, curvy little brunette standing near the door. Her smile was blinding and Stiles sighed.

Scott smiled crookedly, his eyes sweeping over the girl. “Hi. We uh…”

“We need coats,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes as he eased away from the alpha and skirted around the girl to look at the coats. 

Blushing, the girl jerked her attention to Stiles. “Right! Well, I think we have a couple that you might like. The liners zip out so they’re good for warmer weather too. I’ll just leave you two to look. Let me know if you have any questions!”

“Thank you,” Scott said brightly as he sidled up to Stiles. “That was rude,” he murmured, bumping the omega’s shoulder. 

“You were drooling. Really, I was just trying to save you some embarrassment. Here. Try this on,” Stiles commanded, thrusting a simple black parka at the alpha. 

“I was not.” Scott snorted and shrugged out of his backpack, his cheeks flushing. 

“Yeah, dude. You were.” Stiles turned toward Scott and tugged the hem of the coat, settling it over the alpha’s lean hips as Scott zipped it up. “Looks good.” Stiles patted Scott’s chest then turned back to the coats. He pulled a purple one from the rack and checked the size before dropping his own backpack. 

“She’s pretty.” Scott shrugged and snatched the puffy purple parka from Stiles. He held it up as the omega turned, thrusting his arms through the sleeves. The alpha smoothed his hands across Stiles’ shoulders then turned the omega to grasp the bottom of the coat and zip it. 

“So?” Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes, his chin brushing against Scott’s fingers as the alpha finished zipping the coat. 

“Pretty girls like to be looked at. Alpha, beta, omega… They all like to be looked it.” Scott tugged the hood up over Stiles’ head and stepped back, gazing at the omega critically. “Looks good.” 

“Thanks. C’mon. Let’s get these and head out,” Stiles murmured as he unzipped his coat. “It’s almost four. It’ll be dark soon and I bet it’s still snowing.” 

II.

So. Back there… In the shop,” Scott sighed, “you were mad at me. For flirting.”

“Was not.” Stiles leaned forward to fiddle with the heat. “Hey, I know that this is out of the way but the GPS says that the next cross street is Silver Creek Road. Can you take a left at those lights? Where that little Episcopalian church is?”

“Sure. Y’know, it doesn’t make sense to me that a place that gets this much snow and ice hangs their traffic lights on lines above the middle of the road.” Scott frowned and carefully navigated the left hand turn off the highway and onto Silver Creek Road. “So. What’s down here?”

“The house where my mom grew up. There’s a big Catholic church on the left, St. Louis the King, and a little peachy colored house on the right. Slow down… Here! Pull into the church lot.”

Scott obeyed, parking the truck facing the tiny house across the street. “That is small.”

“Yeah. My Mimi raised my mom and uncle here. Along with her three half-sisters. It’s a two bedroom. There’s a third room in the basement. Used to have a fireplace but they bricked it over after a chimney fire. I… I don’t know how I remember that. I think it’s just that Mom talked about it all the time. The thing I do remember is that my papa used to sit in a chair near the fireplace and smoke a pipe. Cherry tobacco. That smell lingered. 

Remember when I was in like the second grade and my folks pulled me out of school for a month in December?”

“Yeah. It sucked.” 

“It really did.” Stiles blinked, shuddering hard when Scott gently brushed a tear from his cheek. He tipped his face into the alpha’s hand and closed his eyes. “My papa was really sick. He ended up in the hospital about a week after we got here.

He had heart disease and something called Aplastic Anemia. He was put into the ICU. At first, I wasn’t allowed to see him… Because germs. Y’know? Kids and germs. Then, suddenly, they told me I could but they told me it might be scary because he was hooked up to all these machines.

Anyway, I didn’t go in. I think I peeked at him from the doorway but I didn’t go in. We came back to the house and Mimi stayed at the hospital. I remember Mom waking me up later that night. She was crying and she bundled me up and we went back to the hospital. It was snowing really hard, like now. When we got there… It was too late. I never said goodbye. I…”

“Hey.” Scott unbuckled his seatbelt and slid across the bench to unbuckle Stiles and haul the trembling omega into his lap. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid. You were scared.”

“I-if I’d just gone into that room. If I’d told him I loved him, if I’d seen him then maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t have died. Maybe…” 

“No. Just no.” Scott sucked in a hard breath, his arms tightening around Stiles, holding the other close. “Shh… So not your fault Stiles. You were a little kid and he was really sick.”

“He left me! I was bad. Not good enough and he left! Like Mom. L-l-like Derrick.” Stiles whined low in his throat and went limp against Scott as the alpha curled a hand over the back of his neck.

“You were not bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. He was sick and he died. He would have died no matter what, Stiles,” Scott whispered. “Sometimes people just leave and it has nothing to do with us or with what we did or didn’t do.” 

“I miss him. He called me Charlie, when I was born,” Stiles whispered, voice thick and ragged. “I had just one little curl and he called me Charlie.” 

“Huh. I wonder what happened to the curls,” Scott mused as he massaged the back of Stiles’ neck. He pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “He’s gone but your grandmother met someone who helped fill that empty spot, right?” 

“Yeah. Grandpa Red. Which is funny because my dad said that Papa used to say ‘I’d rather be dead than have red on my head’ and I guess Grandpa Red was a redhead back when he had hair.” Stiles sniffled and eased out of Scott’s lap, to press against the far door. “You’re going to like them. Mimi and Grandpa Red. You’d have liked Papa too.”

“They’re you’re family. Of course I’m going to like them. Question is, will they like me?”

“Of course they will,” Stiles murmured, wiping his eyes. “I do.” 

III.

Scott pulled into the half-circle drive and shut off the engine. He sat, staring at the little white ranch-style house with its dripping icicle lights and sighed. Shaking away his thoughts, he patted Stiles’ knee, smiling when the omega groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “Hey, you. We’re here,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” Stiles blinked blearily and fumbled open his seatbelt as Scott slid out of the truck, letting in a blast of frigid air. “Holy shite!” 

Stiles scrambled out of the truck, his knees buckling. He flashed Scott a grin as the alpha caught his elbow. “It’s cold! And snowing!” 

“It’s been snowing.” Chuckling, Scott leaned around Stiles and grabbed their backpacks. “C’mon. Let’s get inside,” he said as door leading into the garage opened.

“Grandpa Red!” Stiles beamed, stepping around Scott. 

“Hey, kiddo!” Smiling, widely, Red wrapped Stiles in a tight hug, then released him, chuckling as the omega darted inside. “C’mon you,” he said to Scott. “Inside. It’s cold.” 

“Yes, sir,” Scott said, closing the truck door with his hip. Red pulled the young alpha into a hug, then ushered him into the garage and up the steps leading into the kitchen. 

“You can put your coat and shoes in the closet once we get the door closed. Stiles’ too,” he added, shaking his head as he eased around Scott to scoop up the omega’s coat and wet sneakers, passing them to Scott when the alpha emerged from the spacious closet. “Whoever designed this house wasn’t really thinking. To get into the closet, both the kitchen and basement doors have to be closed. Kitchen door has to be open all the way or closed to get in or out of the basement.”

Scott grinned. “Hey, at least you have a basement for storage and stuff. We really don’t in Cali.”

“C’mon into the living room. I have a fire going. Trudy is crocheting. I thought maybe we could order pizza tonight. We weren’t sure what time you boys would get here.” 

“Pizza sounds amazing, sir. Thank you.” Scott followed Red through the kitchen and dining room into the living room. He smiled softly at the sight of Stiles’ sitting at his grandmother’s knee, a bright grin stretching his generous mouth, as he chattered away. 

“You must be, Scott,” Trudy said, tucking her project into the little basket beside the chair. She smiled warmly and Scott ducked his head. 

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too. Why don’t you go put your things in the guest room? Second door on the right. Anything you boys don’t want on your pizza?” 

“We’re boys, Mimi, so green things are a definite no,” Stiles quipped, bouncing to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Trudy’s cheek, then grabbed his bag from Scott and led the alpha to the guest room. 

“If my aunt was on call at the hospital during our stay here, we’d be sleeping in the basement. She stays here on those nights because she lives out in Skandia.”

“Skandia?”

“Yeah. The boonies, out near the base.” Stiles fell back on the bed as Scott tucked their bags into one corner of the small room. “She looks so fragile,” he whispered, curling against Scott’s hip as the alpha sat down. “So small. I always remembered her being bigger. Larger than life.” 

“You’re growing up.” Scott combed his fingers through Stiles’ short hair. 

“It’s more than that. It took her a second to realize who I was. And she ripped out as many stitches as she made. She seemed so far away.” 

“She’s in her seventies, Stiles. Maybe that’s part of it. Besides,” Scott said gently, “you were rambling away at her, probably distracted her.” Scott smiled and stood. Grabbing Stiles’ hands, he hauled the omega to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s just go enjoy the night. Stare at that amazing tree and eat ourselves sick on pizza.” 

“And peanut butter bars. She made peanut butter bars.” 

IV.

“So, those peanut butter bars…” 

“I know, right?” Stiles rolled to his side and propped himself up. “They send them every year for Christmas.”

“And this is the first time I’ve had them?” Scott huffed and rolled to mirror the omega. “You’ve been holding out on me, Stilinski.” 

“It’s just that they’re so good… Dad and I usually eat them all the day they come.” Stiles blushed and reached out to brush Scott’s bangs away from his eyes. “So is it just me or is this weird?” 

“It’s… Different. It’s not like staying at your place, all squished up in a twin-size bed. This, my friend, is a full-size bed. So, like, there’s space. We don’t have to touch. That’s the difference, I think.”

“Right. Right.” Stiles nodded jerkily and flopped onto his back. “We don’t have to. We don’t have to touch.” 

“It just makes it feel like more. This whole trip makes everything feel like more. I mean, you got all jealous over that shop girl and…”

“You mean the cutely fluffy Allison wannabe?” 

“Hey! She looked nothing like Allison.” 

“Long dark hair, fuck me eyes, pink pouting lips. Other than the extra weight, she looked just like Allison. Besides, you have a type.” 

“Huh. Maybe. Doesn’t change the fact that you acted like a jealous omega-in-heat.”

“I did not. It’s just…” Stiles sighed. 

“Just what?” Scott leaned over Stiles, his dark eyes sparkling in the light from the strange, Siamese cat lamp on the little table beside the bed. 

“I just got you back. After all the crap we’ve been through the last couple years. I don’t want to share you. I want what we had back.”

“Stiles, I hate to break this to you, but we can’t go back. We’ve both changed too much. Done too much.”

“Lost too much,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes against the sight of Scott above him. 

“That too.” Scott leaned down and brushed his lips across Stiles’ brow. “Roll over,” he murmured, nudging Stiles onto his side before moving closer and slipping one arm over Stiles’ waist. “So, we have to figure out how to move forward. We have to redefine who we are to ourselves and each other. You never lost my friendship,” he whispered, pressing his face between Stiles’ tight shoulder blades. “I just needed space to figure out who I was and what I wanted.” 

“Humph.” Tentatively, Stiles curled his fingers over Scott’s hand. 

V.

“Those are the ore docks,” Stiles said, pointing to the massive steel construct that stretched, like a pier, into Lake Superior. “Trains brought the ore and offloaded it into those chutes and then it was picked up by ship. Mining was the thing here. Then, a lot of the mines closed. Grandpa Red used to work for the mines.”

“Huh. There’s something almost beautiful about them, isn’t there?” 

“Yeah.” Nodding, Stiles rolled up his window. “They found a skeleton in one of the chutes once. We could probably, if we wanted to, walk out onto the ice but I’ve heard way too many horror stories about that. Up ahead is Presque Isle Park. Follow the road around. Stay to the right. There used to be a zoo here. Dad said that they had things like raccoons, turkey, porcupine and a big fenced in area with deer. They had other animals too but that part closed down first because the cages were way too small. 

Then, eventually, they took down the fence that kept the deer in. Mimi said that she and Grandpa Red used to come down here and feed them, but you’re not supposed to. 

Also, who puts raccoons in a zoo? They’re brazen little shits. They’ll come right up to you for food.”

“I really like it here,” Scott mused. “It’s peaceful. Quiet.” He pulled the truck into a small lot overlooking the lake. “That’s shale, right,” he queried, pointing at the cliffs. 

“Yeah. You can swim here but dad says it cuts your feet up because the shale is sharp. Back that way a bit,” Stiles added, pointing over his shoulder, “is a cove with a rocky bottom. Like rocks, pebbles, that kind of thing. Hurts your feet. Next time we’ll come during the summer and I’ll show you Black Rocks and we’ll walk the break wall.”

Scott grinned and glanced down to where Stiles’ hand was splayed on the black leather seat. “Next time?” He stretched out his fingers until their pinkies touched. 

“Um. Yeah. Y’know. If you wanna.” Stiles blushed and pressed his cheek to the cold window. “Mimi said that she’s making cookies today. Peanut butter.”

“She has a thing for peanut butter, doesn’t she,” Scott asked, hooking his littlest finger around Stiles’. 

“It was Papa’s favorite. It’s mine too.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Scott slowly withdrew his hand and put the truck into gear, backing onto the road. “Let’s go see if she’ll let us help.” 

“Sound’s good.” Stiles glanced at Scott and smiled, his honeyed eyes warm and bright. 

VI.

“Looks like they left,” Stiles said, frowning as he toed of his shoes, Scott crowding close behind him to shut the door. 

“Maybe they left a note.” Scott cupped Stiles’ hip and toed of his own sneakers, kicking them toward the closet when the omega pressed back into the line of his body. 

“Maybe,” Stiles agreed, voice cracking. He shivered, sighing, when Scott pressed his nose to the small gland just behind Stiles’ right ear. “Scottie?” 

“Hmm?” Scott rubbed his nose along the gland, then pressed his lips to the tender skin at the back of Stiles’ neck. 

Stiles clutched at Scott’s hand and dropped his chin to his chest as the alpha exhaled raggedly, nosing behind Stiles’ left ear, tongue laving over the gland there before he scraped it gently with his teeth. 

Scott pulled away reluctantly at the sound of steps on the garage stairs. Stiles squeezed his fingers once, briefly, and scurried for the bedroom, his heartbeat thundering in Scott’s ears. 

“You’re back. Did you boys have a good ride,” Trudy asked, pushing a large paper grocery bag at Scott as he turned. 

Scott nodded sharply and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. Good.” She smiled and gestured for Scott to start unloading. “Where’s Stiles?”

“I think he went to take a nap.” Smiling shakily, Scott, turned away and started pulling produce from the bag. “It’s really pretty up here. Not sure if I’ll get used to the snow though.” 

Laughing, Trudy ruffled his hair then took off her coat, sidestepping Red as he entered the kitchen with two more bags. 

“I can’t believe you boys are leaving the day after tomorrow,” Red said as he set down his bags and started unpacking them. “Seems a shame that you can’t stay a few more days.” 

“I know.” Scott firmed his smile and met Red’s eyes. “This trip though, I think it’s been good for us. The last couple years were pretty rough on our friendship.”

Red snorted. “Is that what you boys are calling it these days? Friendship?”

“What do you mean, sir?” 

Trudy laughed and opened the fridge, making room for the groceries. “I think what my husband is saying, Scott, is that you boys are more than friends.” 

“Sir?” 

Red nodded slowly and pushed Scott gently out of the way. The young alpha sat down at the kitchen table. “Exactly. You look at him, the way I look at Trudy. The way John looked at Lynn. You look at our boy as if you would be lost without him.” 

“Maybe.” Scott scrubbed his fingers through his hair and sighed. “He’s my best friend. Has been pretty much since day one. It’s just that…. The last two years have been really rough.”

“John told us,” Trudy said. Her brow furrowed as she began to open the kitchen drawers one by one. 

Red followed along behind her, quietly closing them. “What are you looking for, love?”

“My apron. I just can’t quite remember…” Trudy trailed off, her eyes distant as she gazed out the window over the sink. 

“I think, Scott,” Red said as he opened the bottom drawer near the sink and withdrew an apron, “that if you talk to Stiles, you’ll find that, despite how rough things were, he needs you. Maybe even loves you.” 

“Now where did you find that?” Trudy laughed as Red slipped the neck of the apron over Trudy’s head and helped her tie it. “Oh, never mind. Now, what was I doing,” she mumbled, drifting away from Red to peer at the cookbook laying open near the stove. 

Red swallowed, his Adams Apple bobbing, and made his way to the table. He sat down at the back of the table, his eyes on his wife as she slowly moved about the kitchen. “You talk to that boy. You tell him whatever it is that’s in your heart. Be honest about what you feel and what you want. Our time on this earth is too short. Far too short.” 

Leaning forward, Red lowered his voice. “She had an appointment this morning, before we went shopping. She’s been forgetting things. Doing odd little things. Last week she made cookies and used salt instead of sugar. I ate them. I ate every damn one of them.” He paused and sucked in a ragged breath. “The night before you boys arrived, she left the stove on after dinner. I didn’t notice until just before bed. Two days before that, while I was at work, she wandered out of the house in her pajamas. Our neighbors found her walking circles around the house, unable to remember how to get back in.

She has good days and bad days but it’s been getting worse. So, I took her to see a specialist this morning. She has dementia.”

Scott curled his hand over Red’s clenched fist. He looked away as the man blinked furiously. “If I’d paid more attention, we might have caught it in time for the medication that’s available to be effective but…” He shrugged and Scott turned his attention to the tiny, fragile looking woman puttering about the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” Scott husked, pushing away from the table. “I should…Stiles... It’s going to break his heart.” 

“I can tell him. In fact, I should tell him. I have… I need to ask him something. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair to either of you. I know that, after seeing the two of you together but…” 

“If he wants to, we’ll stay. Both of us.” Scott barked out a broken laugh. “Red, it’s not a matter of if. He’ll want to stay and if he stays then I stay. If you can handle having both of us under foot. And… And I’ll tell him,” Scott promised.

VII.

Scott paused in the doorway, breath catching in his throat. Stiles lay sprawled on his back beneath a handmade afghan of brown, cream and peach. The strange little lamp on the bedside table cast a warm, amber light across the delicate plains of Stiles’ face, highlighting the apples of his cheeks and deepening the shadow in the cleft of his chin. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, as he crept into the room and slid into bed beside the omega who turned and cuddled into Scott’s chest. Gently, Scott rearranged the blanket over both of them. 

“For what?” Stiles squirmed, centering the steady, too-fast thrum of Scott’s heart beneath his ear. The omega sighed as the alpha wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You were right,” Scott began, cupping the back of Stiles’ head, fingers stroking gently through the omega’s hair. “Your Mimi isn’t doing so hot, Stiles.”

“Oh,” Stiles asked, voice tiny. 

“I’m sorry. I uh… I was talking to your grandfather and… She has dementia, Stiles.” 

“Oh.” Stiles turned his head, pressing his forehead into Scott’s chest. He fisted the alpha’s t-shirt as he began to shake. 

Scott caught his fingers in Stiles’ belt loops and hauled the omega up, until the smaller teen was laying on top of him, their legs tangled together. “I know,” Scott whispered, blinking away tears as he rubbed slow circles on Stiles’ back. “Your grandpa would like you to stay. To help,” he said slowly. “If you want to. If you can. If you do… I… If you want to… I’ll stay with you. We’ll both stay.” 

“I c-c-can’t ask you t-to.” Shuddering, Stiles shifted upwards and pressed his face against Scott’s neck. 

“You don’t have to. As soon as Red told me he was going to ask you to stay, I made the decision to stay with you.” Scott exhaled slowly and rolled Stiles beneath him. He cupped the omega’s face and brushed away Stiles’ tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, okay? We’ll stay and you can get to know them… Really know them. And we’ll be here and we’ll help them and it will be okay.”

Stiles closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” Scott whispered before bending to ghost a series of small kisses across Stiles’ trembling lips. “Now, c’mon. Go wash your face and find a reason to smile. Your Mimi is making cookies and Red promised to take us to Vangos, whatever that is, for dinner tonight, since tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”


End file.
